


feeling me

by lightyears



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Possessive Sex, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant!Clarke, Prostitute!Clarke, Prostitution, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22532467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightyears/pseuds/lightyears
Summary: KM prompt: Pregnant prostitute Clarke. She hasn’t had many clients since getting knocked up, so she’s confused when this new one pays extra for her. Cut to pregnancy kink fucking where Bell acts super possessive, as if pretending the baby is his.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 18
Kudos: 374
Collections: Bellarke smut, The 100 Kinkmeme Round 2020





	feeling me

“You've been requested, sweetheart.”

Despite the two other people in the room, Clarke knows Roan’s talking to her. Having been friends since they were kids means that, even now, as her pimp, he’s got a soft spot for her, which manifests itself in general protectiveness and pet names.

Not that Clarke minds; in this line of business, it’s nice to know someone’s got her back.

Even more so in her particular situation — a situation that means his words come as something of a shock.

Because at this point, she’s mostly coming into work to keep some semblance of a social life — which is maybe a little sad, but it’s not as though she has much in common with other expecting mothers, outside of the obvious. But as her stomach shifted from the soft swell at three months to a small baby bump at five, to the proper rounded belly it now is at seven, she’s lost a lot of her regulars, as well as the usual flow of one-offs that come by for a random fuck.

Because while these men are happy to pay to fuck her, be rough with her, tie her up and call her a slut, they apparently draw the line at sex with a pregnant woman.

“Type?” She asks Roan, pushing herself up out of her chair and moving to the panel of mirrors in their little staff room.

She shrugs off her stretchy dress, pulls out fresh underwear from her bag to change. Everyone in this place has seen everything of everyone else’s at this point, and Clarke’s always been something of an exhibitionist, so she doesn’t mind changing in front of Roan, Murphy and Harper, tugging on a black cotton thong and a simple bralette. It offers barely any support, but makes her already generous tits look stupid good. Lace and frills are too annoying at this point in her pregnancy, and if Roan hasn’t already specified an exact look to go for, he must think her usual style will suit the client’s desires just fine. 

“Haven’t seen him around before,” he says, contemplative. “Attractive, maybe a bit on the alpha-male side. Not someone I’d typically expect at our joint.”

Usually means they’re into some kinky shit, if Roan think that, though Clarke knows he’s warned all potential clients that her limits have changed since she got knocked up. Nothing too rough, nothing that could harm the baby.

Still, she doesn’t mind kinky, so it sounds promising, and Clarke’s cautiously optimistic as she runs through her pre-first-time-client checklist, touching up her makeup, fluffing up her hair. A mint and a spray of perfume.

She nods her goodbye to Murphy and Harper — both on a break after they fucked a regular together — and follows Roan into the hallway that leads to the back rooms, where all the action happens.

“He’s in room three, waiting for you,” Roan says, walking up with her, as he does with all his employees. “Paid extra for “the pregnant one”.”

“Fuck, really?” Clarke asks, both surprised and a little curious. Five years in the game and willing to do a lot, her hourly rate is better than most, so it’s not often that someone will offer more money _before_ she’s even met them. “Hero complex?” She wonders, because she’s met her fair share of that type too, wanting to save her from this life; the guys that like to fuck her dirty, but can’t stand the thought of anyone else doing the same.

The cognitive dissonance is truly amusing, but Clarke doesn’t really mind. The more she knows going in, the better she’s able to play the part her client’s wanting, the bigger the tip she’s likely to get. Roan’s perceptive, good at this part of the job, so she trusts his judgement.

“Maybe, but I doubt it. Didn’t have that usual hint of pitying condescension.” Reaching the end of the hall, where it opens to the row of private rooms, Roan turns to Clarke, smirks. “Honestly?” He says, looks her up and down, lingering on her belly for a pointed moment. “I think he just really wants to fuck a pregnant woman.”

A jolt of heat runs through Clarke unexpectedly, Roan’s words surprisingly enticing, making her cunt throb immediately, her heart quicken in her chest. A response she could blame on the lack of recent clients, and thus her usual amount of sex, or even general pregnancy hormones, though it wouldn’t be explained by the exact trigger: that Roan thinks he chose her specifically because she’s pregnant.

Because while Clarke isn’t in the same desperate position she was when she started this five years ago, hustling for each and every client, for each and every penny, it’s still been something of an ego hit to be overlooked simply because she’s currently pregnant.

And the thought of this guy — this apparently _attractive_ guy — wanting her not in spite of that, but _because_ of it, is…

Well, it’s surprisingly a fucking turn on.

Roan’s laugh breaks her from her thoughts, and Clarke feels herself flush under his knowing gaze, though it’s out of arousal more so than embarrassment. They’ve known each other too long, hooked up on too many occasions, for her to worry about any judgement.

“Guess you won’t be needing much lube, sweetheart,” he says, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. “Any problems, you know what to do. Security will be in the room in fifteen seconds flat. But I think you’ll have some fun tonight.”

With that, he turns back the way he came, calling into the front desk to start her time on the clock as Clarke walks the last few steps to room three, pussy pooling with slick arousal, suspecting he’s exactly right.

Anticipation builds alongside her own excitement as she reaches the door, knocks twice to give her client a moment of warning before entering the room.

She’s always found it interesting to see how her clients react to her initial presence. Regulars are usually more comfortable, used to the particular transaction and often happy to get started with a hand around their cock or fingers playing with their cunt before Clarke’s even arrived, treating her to a nice little show as soon as she steps into the room.

First timers aren’t as easy to predict. Sometimes nervous or embarrassed, ashamed and needing to be coaxed with soft encouragement and gentle reassurance; easy to drain the clock, because it often takes half the time just to work them up to what they’re paying for. Sometimes arrogant assholes who hold a false sense of superiority, thinking they’re somehow better than her because she gets paid to fuck people, despite them being the ones opening their wallets for her to do just that.

The guy she opens the door to see now, standing tall and unabashed by the couch, dark gaze meeting her own immediately, doesn’t seem to fit into either category.

A shiver runs down her spine as she takes him in, light brown skin, sharp jaw, full lips. Broad like he could cover her entire body if he wanted to. Curls that are just begging to be pulled at.

Roan was wrong: attractive doesn’t even cover it. This man is maybe the hottest fucking person she’s ever seen in real life.

And he wants to fuck her.

_Because she’s pregnant._

Without a name, or any further requests to go off of, Clarke starts with a coy smile and a hand to her belly. His eyes flicker to it immediately, flaring with heat, and her pussy pulses hungrily in response.

“Hi,” she says, keeping her voice soft and sultry, stepping towards him. He holds his position as she does, keeping his gaze trained on hers, owning his presence in this room, in this situation, with a confidence that she rarely sees in first timers. She’s always been good at reading people, and she suspects he’s not someone who shies from what he wants, appreciates his boldness being matched; it makes it easy for her to be brash: “I heard you requested “the pregnant one”.”

She’s rewarded with a rough bark of laughter, another hungry flash of his eyes. “That I did,” he says, voice deep, rough, the kind she imagines runs incredibly dirty when he wants. “Bellamy,” he offers — not a name she’s heard before, but one she could definitely get used to saying.

Get used to begging, screaming, sobbing.

“Bellamy,” she tries out, smiling around the word. “You can call me Princess.” Not the most original working name, but she was barely twenty when she came up with it, and Bellamy doesn’t seem to mind. She steps forward again, close enough that her round belly brushes against him just a hint, raising a hand to trail her finger down his chest. “I think you’re a little overdressed for a place like this, Bellamy.”

“I’m sure you can help me out with that, Princess.”

Her grin sharpens at the challenge in his words, knowing she read him right. While some people need to be talked to first, guided through the whole experience, Bellamy’s more than ready to go, and Clarke holds his gaze as she tugs at the bottom of his top, lifting it up and over his head as heated tension stretches between them.

A broad, golden chest greets her, a soft tummy that has the beginnings of a dark happy train leading to a half-hard cock she’s guessing is as impressive as the rest of him. She works his belt and then his trousers, neither of them saying a word as she drops to her knees in front of him, pulling them down and off alongside his black briefs, heat flushing her skin when she gets a proper look at his cock.

Not even completely hard, it’s still already gorgeous, incredibly promising.

Clarke licks her lips, eyes flicking back up to meet Bellamy’s.

He watches with an intensity that has hunger swelling within her, her cunt throbbing with desire, as she licks her palm and wraps it around the base of his cock. It immediately thickens in her grasp, and Clarke’s smile turns wicked as she leans in, until her lips are barely a few inches from him.

“You ever see a pregnant woman suck cock?” She asks, though she doesn’t wait for an answer, shifting forward to take him in her mouth as soon as the words have left it.

“Fuck,” Bellamy growls, head tipping back for a moment, but he’s quick to look back down at her, drinking her in greedily as she starts to work him the rest of the way up.

“There’s just something about it, isn’t there? That makes it so fucking hot,” she continues when she pulls back, letting her hand stroke the growing length of him, spitting on the head of his cock so it mixes with the bead of pre-come, using it all to get him nice and slick. “Maybe because pregnant women aren’t meant to love it so much. Too depraved an act when you’re carrying the precious gift of life.”

“And you love it, don’t you, Princess?” Bellamy asks, voice getting a little tight when she moves in to tease his head for a lingering moment. “Love sucking cock when people tell you you shouldn’t.”

She feels her eyes light up at his assertion, dirty words with the hint of truth making it all so much hotter.

Holding his gaze, she slides her mouth down the length of him again. Even with his considerable length, Clarke’s a pro at sucking cock, and he hits the back of her throat without her even gagging, his jaw clenching in response, before she pulls back and pops off.

“It’s amongst some of my favourite things,” she says playfully, suggestively, keeping a steady rhythm of her hand as she leads Bellamy to where he wants to go. “But so many people treat me like I can’t handle anything anymore. Like I’m too weak, or too innocent to have fun.” She’s maybe moving things along more quickly than she usually would, when money’s meant to be the main thing on her mind, but right now, the hunger stretched hot and greedy through her is aching to be fed. So she can’t help but pout just a little, letting Bellamy see exactly that as she asks: “But you know what I really need, don’t you, Bellamy?”

His jaw works, his words coming out so rough and intense, she can feel them at her cunt. “You, Princess, need to be fucked.”

He’s tugging her up a moment later, huge hands on her, just gentle enough not to hurt as he pulls her in and claims her mouth.

Clarke whines into it, body running alight as Bellamy takes the control she hoped he would. His lips press hungrily against her own, tongue sweeping with an intoxicating warmth, touch hot where his hands runs over her skin, firm, almost possessive as they shift from the curve of her tits down to her belly between them.

He guides her to the bed without breaking the kiss, mouth only leaving hers when the backs of her legs hit the edge, to instead trail across her jaw, down to her neck. Her bralette is undone and off barely a moment later, and when Bellamy’s lips find her nipple to play with, Clarke sucks in a sharp breath.

“Fuck, too much?” He asks, looking up at her, his concern clear even under all the lust, and a surge of fondness swells in Clarke’s chest. She’s rarely checked on so genuinely by clients.

“My tits are so much more sensitive now that I’m pregnant,” she says, before pointedly threading her fingers through his curls, guiding him back to her. “It’s not bad, just a lot.” She gives him a wicked little smile. “You should see how wet it gets me.”

She feels his growl vibrate against her skin as he reclaims her nipple, sucking it into the warmth of his mouth, each tease of his tongue sending a pulse of pleasure straight to her clit. The perfect connection shifts into something headier when he continues down his path to instead focus on her belly, a trail of hot kisses and licks while his hands smooth over her protectively, possessively. The baby’s still somehow asleep, but Clarke suspects they won’t be for long, feels a surge of fucked up excitement at the prospect of Bellamy’s reaction to the baby rolling or stretching in her belly.

Her thong’s off next, and Bellamy eases Clarke to lean against the edge of the bed once the last remaining bit of fabric between them is gone, dropping to his knees in front of her.

Hands curling around her legs, he spreads her thighs open and offers a wolfish grin. “Ever seen a man eat a pregnant woman’s cunt?”

Her breath of laughter turns into a whine as soon as his mouth meets her, tongue sweeping along the slit of her pussy eagerly, drawing tension hot to her core. Two fingers find her clit while Bellamy's spare hand settles on the curve of her belly, and Clarke’s eyes flutter closed as she lets the intoxicating combination of sensations build and run together. Pregnancy has made her quick to come, a happy discovery in a business where she usually has to fake it, but even with that expectation the speed in which Bellamy works her to the edge is a surprise. Barely a minute and Clarke’s moans are breaking just as she does, tension snapping with a rush of heated pleasure that Bellamy carries her through indulgently.

“Fuck,” she sighs, when he eventually pulls back from her cunt. His mouth and chin are obscenely slick with her arousal, unsurprising with just how wet he’s gotten her.

“I could drive you to fucking tears, couldn’t I, Princess?” He says, voice rough, confident, and a jolt of excitement rolls up her spine at the hint of promise in the words. Cockiness is a fine line he’s mastered to walk, and Clarke threads her fingers through his curls, pulls him up to taste it on her lips.

Her own arousal greets her tongue as the kiss turns deep and greedy, Bellamy standing up to lean over her on the edge of the bed, her belly keeping him from pressing as close as Clarke would normally want, but with the hand he again starts running over the curve of it, she doesn’t think he minds.

It’s that that sparks her next words, ones she says before they properly make sense in her mind: “Wanna fuck another baby into me?”

The responding growl is probably the hottest, most primal sound she’s heard in her life.

“Princess, you have no idea,” Bellamy says, so low and intense another rush of wet heat pools at her cunt. His hands are on her then, firm but careful as he takes control, gets her in his desired position; with his fixation with her belly and tits, Clarke’s not surprised it’s on her back, ass at the end of the bed, so he can stand in the cradle of her thighs and fuck her just how he wants — and how she needs — while getting the perfect view. “God, look at you,” he murmurs, gaze greedy as he takes her in, skin flushed pink, nipples peaked, eyes blown dark. “So fucking gorgeous, Princess. You know that?”

She does, but it’s always nice to hear, especially from him.

“You can tell me some more,” she says, biting back a coy smile as she curls her legs around his hips, drawing him in close, so she can feel his cock hot and hard against her cunt. “As you knock me up again.”

Bellamy’s eyes flash with heat, and he keeps them trained on Clarke as his hand wraps around the base of his cock and he guides himself to her pussy. Condoms are something she’s paid extra not to use, which is lucky for this particular fantasy, works well when, without a word, Bellamy fucks into her with a single, smooth stroke, the perfect stretch of his cock drawing the beginnings of tension to her core.

“Fuck,” she whines, eyes fluttering closed as she gets used to the heady sensation of being filled, though they’re quick to fly open again, when Bellamy pulls out and slams back into her, sharp, almost pointed.

“Eyes open, Princess,” he says, a smirk tugging at his stupid pretty mouth as he settles into a hard and fast pace she knows will break her quickly. “I wanna watch as you come on my cock.”

“Coming on your mouth wasn’t enough?”

His grin sharpens wolfishly, gaze flashing as it runs over her hungrily. “Get a better look at you this way,” he says, and, unsurprisingly, the words prompt him to smooth a hand up over her belly again, the other staying curled at her hip to keep her in place. “But looks like I’ve got my hands full with you, Princess. How about you play with your tits for me?”

Her hands move as though they were just waiting for permission, finding to her tits and beginning to fondle them. They barely fit in her palms now, so swollen from pregnancy, but from the way Bellamy’s gaze flares, she thinks it only turns him on more.

Pleasure builds as she begins teasing her nipples, as Bellamy begins running his mouth with dirty words, fucking her relentlessly. It’s such a stark comparison to the gentle touch he continues to run over her stomach, but one she’s grateful for when she finally feels the baby waking up, shifting in her belly.

Watches as Bellamy feels it too.

“Looks like you woke someone up,” Clarke says, a smile tugging at her lips when she settles her hand over his, moving it to the exact right spot.

Unsurprisingly, she’s already so close to the edge, and this seems to draw him there too, his jaw working tight, a newfound intensity to his gaze. He looks between her belly and her face, hungry and possessive.

“God, so fucking gorgeous, Princess,” he says, voice dropped so low she can’t help the responding shiver that rolls up her spine. “Never seen anything like it. Look at what we made.”

Her cunt clenches at his words, the fantasy fucked up but stupidly hot, and she lets it settle in her mind, lets herself play into it. “You’re gonna be such a good daddy,” she says, watching greedily as his eyes burn with that fire she’s already beginning to love. “Looking after me and the baby so well. Treating me so good, Bellamy.”

“Fuck, Princess,” he growls, his hand still moving as he continues to fuck her hard and sharp. “Promise I’m gonna look after you both. Never gonna stop giving you what you need.”

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ ” she whines, everything too much, his cock and his words, the fantasy, pulling all that building, curling tension so tight that it snaps in a flood of white-hot release.

Clarke cries out as it stretches throughout her body, making her tremble, her pussy clench around Bellamy’s cock. Shocks of pleasure he works her through expertly, until she’s slumped back on the bed and gasping for air, barely coming down before another sharp jolt hits her, his fingers finding her clit to push her over the edge again.

He joins her for that second one, and even as waves of release continue to spread from her cunt, Clarke’s quick to open her eyes when his thrusts turn frantic and he grunts her name, watching greedily as his face pulls tight with pleasure and he fucks into her one final time, spilling into her bare.

“That’s it, Bellamy,” she murmurs, letting her fingers tangle with his on her belly. “Filling me up so good, just like that.”

He murmurs his agreement before finally going still, and they stay joint like that for a long moment, breathing hard and wrecked from each other, until Bellamy finally pulls out, picking her up as easy as anything to settle them both at the top of the bed.

She had half expected him to grab his clothes and leave, just as so many clients do once they’ve used her to their release, but she shouldn't be surprised he’s different. He's already shown that in many ways.

Again, his hand finds her belly, and Clarke can’t help but smile as he moves it around to where the baby’s stretching.

“When’re you due?” He asks, voice stupidly rough and sexy, and Clarke rolls onto her side to face him.

“About two months,” she says, looking down at her swollen belly. It doesn’t feel real that she’ll meet her baby so soon. “As long as they don’t decide to come early.”

Bellamy chuckles, and Clarke looks back up at him. He really is ridiculously hot, and again she feels a rush of warmth that he’s so openly attracted to her. “Two months,” he says, eyes locking on hers hungrily, contemplatively. “Means I’ve got more than enough time to fuck you right before you finish up work.”

Clarke can’t help but smile, her excitement of all the possibilities surging. Now that she knows what he’s after, she can definitely play the part just how he wants. “You’re going to come back?”

“You think I’m done with you, Princess?” He asks, low and rough, commanding. He rolls her onto her back, presses in as close as he’s able to, mouth hovering just above hers. “Tears, Princess,” he reminds. “I said I’d drive you to tears.”

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!


End file.
